One More Truth

Reflections on faith, truth, and being human

Picture Perfect – The blogger’s ‘About Me’ headshot

by Leave a Comment

Let’s have some fun at the blogger’s expense, and what’s more fun than a self-deprecating blog post, am I right?! I can handle fingers being pointed at me – they just have to be MY fingers.

I’ll let you in on a little secret – social media isn’t my savvy. I’ve never had an account on Facebook, Twitter, or Pinterest. I’m a blogger who doesn’t read blogs. Not sure if that’s typical of most bloggers, but that’s my story, anyway. Prior to One More Truth, my laptop’s primary functions were managing the budget, checking emails, and googling recipes.

As a matter of fact, it was the googling of recipes that introduced me to blogs. A cornucopia of food blogs, to be specific. Talk about a diverse world of ‘about me’ photos. The gluten-free blogger’s ‘about me’ features her smiling children noshing gluten-free, dairy-free cupcakes at a tea party. The paleo blogger’s ‘about me’ is a full body shot of the author flexing while devouring a coconut oil infused turkey leg hot off the grill. The baker is wearing an apron, the penny-pincher is wielding coupons and a whisk, and the chef is chopping organic peppers from the local farmer’s market. Oh my. Needless to say, the blogging genre didn’t seem to be my scene. But God used a few pivotal conversations to change my mind and before I knew it, I had a blog that needed an ‘About Me’ picture.

I enlisted my eight year old as my photographer and we banged that photo shoot out in under 10 minutes, thanks to my daughter’s 2nd grade attention span. And thanks to my 2nd grade attention span, my headshot was cropped, filtered, and ready to go in under 5 minutes. We used really fancy equipment: my ‘eligible for upgrade’ smartphone (cracked screen and all) and its less than stellar photo editing tools. Pretty professional stuff. No props, no airbrush, no makeup touch-ups – just me, plain and simple.

Because I like simple. Maybe not always plain, but I do like clear. And practical. The more I read God’s Word, the more I discover how very clear and simple it truly is. Jesus absolutely astounded people with His simple answers to their philosophical questions. He often used trees and plants to illustrate faith and spiritual growth and other ‘Living like Jesus’ lessons because they were common and relatable pictures. He used mud to repair blind eyes, probably because it was practical and available. God used only words to create the universe. When Moses asked for a persuasive visual for Pharaoh, God told him to look no further than the staff already in his hand. I’m amazed how often God the Father and God the Son used simple commands, such as ‘Go’, ‘Come’, ‘Follow’, ‘Turn’, ‘Do not fear’, and ‘Love’. They didn’t waste words. The simplicity theme weaves its way throughout the entire Bible. I love that.

When it comes to words, I like the Jesus approach – less is more. James (author of the New Testament book of ‘James’) was the earthly brother of Jesus. For everything James saw and heard throughout his childhood, I imagine he could have easily written several 500 chapter books. Instead, he wrote only a 5 chapter book, known especially for its warnings against saying too much. James kept it short and sweet. I appreciate that. I’m busy, you’re busy, we’re bombarded by information all day long, and sometimes I swear that if I have to read one more email, one more statement, or one more opinion, I’ll just explode. Talking like this makes me feel like a blogger. But for the sake of honesty, I’m a blogger who has a hard time turning on her inner editor which means OMT only appears in your Inbox when it’s something worth reading – and determining that often puts me in a very self-doubt, fearful kind of place.

I’m teaching a class at Hope called ‘Living Bravely’. It couldn’t have come at a better time, because I’m learning more than I’m teaching. I’m in a season of change – internal change, mostly – and change often causes fear to surface. You can’t live bravely if you’re paralyzed by fear. In fact, Jesus repeatedly said, ‘Do not fear’ because He knew fear comes naturally for us. Fear consumes us, actually. But why not fear when you have much to lose? Why not doubt yourself when you’re in danger of looking stupid? Why not hide in terror when conditions are dangerous? Because Jesus said, ‘Take courage’. Courage is accepting danger, difficulty, and risk by acting anyway. Courage is action in spite of fear. Courage is getting over yourself so you can trust God’s plan. Courage is telling yourself to shut up and jump already. Courage is reminding yourself that you’re good enough, smart enough, and gosh darn it, Jesus picked you to be on His team. Courage is remembering that no matter what Jesus calls us to do, He promised He would be there with us.

I never would have chosen myself to be on a team as awesome as Jesus’. I’m imperfect, inadequate, and quite frankly, I suck at a bunch of stuff. Maybe you feel the same way. God used people like us all the time – look at Moses, Gideon, Esther, Peter, Paul, and the list goes on. He took weak, timid people, He gave them courage, and helped them become brave.

I began writing to encourage others in living the real Jesus life, and maybe it does, but in the process, writing is encouraging me. It’s helping me live bravely. It’s putting some fears to rest, which is pretty wonderful because there is no fear in love. When Jesus was asked to simplify His instructions for us, He sifted them down to love: Love Him and love others. Love with all we’ve got. It’s difficult to be consumed by love when you’re consumed by fear. It’s impossible.

So I’ll leave you with this: Live bravely. Whatever you’re supposed to be doing in His name (and I’m guessing you already know what that whatever is), whether it be a big deal or a small something, do it. Do it with love. And take courage.

The voices in our head and a little place called ‘Hope’

by 3 Comments

Once a week, I venture into a rundown neighborhood – past a few bars and a few beggars – to a modest house where I spend a few hours behind locked doors…

Afraid? Don’t be. This is a safe house; a women’s facility nestled into the bones of an older home, in an even older neighborhood where the residents have weathered some rough personal storms. A large sign in the front yard identifies the house to passersby with the appropriate name: ‘Hope.’

Affectionately referred to as a hospital by most of the clients, ‘Hope’ doesn’t feel like a sterile facility with comfortably decorated waiting rooms that never really put anyone at ease. This re-purposed house feels like home. Former bedrooms are offices and counseling rooms. The family room is now a resource room, stocked with donated clothing, diapers, and toiletries. The large den holds classroom tables and white boards. And the kitchen? Well, where do guests flock when they come to your house? Yeah, same here. Always full of women, the tiny kitchen is a busy hub of chatter, laughter, and commiserating. Coffee is usually brewing and fresh vegetables – grown in the garden out back by the women in the gardening class – are rinsed and drying, ready to be chopped and enjoyed in a new recipe. And if there is a birthday, you know someone brought cupcakes.

The talk reflects a lifestyle different from that of suburbia. Instead of carpool drama, someone shares about her supervised visit with her children. Another proudly announces how many days she has been clean. There is no gripe about school teachers, college applications, or children barely missing the honor roll. No one complains about the husband who leaves his socks on the floor. Any woman in a relationship – married or otherwise – is simply glad her man is home, because sometimes he leaves without warning.

When Jesus said Satan steals, kills, and destroys, He was serious. These women understand exactly what Jesus was saying. Nearly 100% of the clients at ‘Hope’ have experienced past abuse or are coping with it now. Most of the time, abuse came from the mouth or the hands of someone who was supposed to love them. Abuse has stolen their dignity, killed their dreams, and destroyed their confidence. A tragic pattern formed early, and the victimized child grew into a victimized adult. A bleak narrative repeats in her head, relentlessly reminding her she is worthless, she will never beat addiction, or she will never be loved, smart, whole…fill in the blank. She’s spent a lifetime believing the voices and probably just as long fighting to shut them up.

I answer phones, register women for classes, and open the front door that always remains locked – an essential security feature for the center and for the clients. (But I have no question most of the women could handle any menacing visitor.) For now, I’m also teaching a class about nutrition and fitness with a more spiritual, less physical spin. Far more streetsmart than I, these women know a lot of stuff I don’t know, like what time of night the repo folks come to snag your car and exactly how many days you can skip a payment before the lights cut off, but the gals are sweet for allowing me to teach them and even sweeter for listening to me yammer on. We don’t discuss the pros and cons of eating organic, because food programs don’t offer organic. No one is considering hiring a personal trainer – who needs one when your life is a workout? Most of the clients walk everywhere they need to go and their bonus workout is dragging laundry to the Laundromat in wheeled coolers a few times a week.

I doubt these precious ladies have learned much from me, but I’m learning a lot from them. They are genuine and vulnerable, without apology. I admire their tenacity and their honesty. After spending years believing they had no choices, one day they had hope enough to believe that maybe they did. Within their limitations, they made a choice to hope, to change, to step out for healing, and it opened up their world. The adversity and chaos of their home life is no longer strong enough to keep them from striving for more. Someone introduced them to Jesus and His unconditional love; a love so different from the selfish love they knew before – the kind given and withheld at another’s whim. They have a Savior and a Defender who is rewriting their internal narrative of despair with a narrative of promise. He restores them and reminds them they have purpose, worth, and reason to hope.

Whether the opinions of the past, the shouts of the present, or the whispers of the future, everyone has an inner narrative. It tells you who you are, what you aren’t, and where that puts you in the stack. When I choose a narrative other than my Savior’s, I become painfully aware of my lacking and my hurts. I have to choose His voice over the others. I have to allow Him to speak to my heart. And then I have to listen.

Tomorrow, I’ll hang with my peeps outside of suburbia and continue to get an education I never expected. They have stories and backgrounds different from mine, but we share a Heavenly Father. And because of His grace, we have hopes for the same wonderful future.

 

Angsty aging and accepting surprises, happy or not so happy

by Leave a Comment

My daughter turned 18 last week, making me the official parent of a legal adult. (Also making me officially old.) She wants to believe her new age changes a lot of things for her, but I have no trouble tenderly reminding her that as long as my financial responsibilities for her and her needs remain the same, her responsibilities within our household and our relationship remain the same. That’s how that works.

When she was younger, she enjoyed a few quasi-epic birthday parties. Five was celebrated at Chuck E. Cheese. Ten was a cupcake decorating party with a piñata. Thirteen was a covert mission with my daughter’s best friend to pull off a pretty awesome surprise party. For the Sweet Sixteen, our party attempts were a flop. It was the casual gathering our daughter had requested, but the entire high school band had been invited and maybe 8 of them showed up. Great for the parents hosting the party, perhaps, but not so great for the birthday girl.

This year, our daughter opted for some fun that didn’t require a crowd – dinner out with her boyfriend and her parents. And part of our gift to the new adult? No younger siblings on this outing – 18 and up only. Our daughter chose a high end establishment where Kool-aid is served in Ball jars and the boasted entrée is fried chicken and waffles. Chicken gizzards, grits, and biscuits and gravy were on the menu, as were fried green tomatoes. Yes, I was tickled and yes, I ordered the fried green tomatoes. A DJ sat in the back corner mixing up all kind of throwback jams. Our southern roots – nearly withered by the ways of the West – found nourishment at that restaurant that went deeper than delicious meals. Needs were met and we had a blast.

I’ve had 18 years to prepare, but I still find myself surprised by my new parenting status. If I reflect on all the living that’s been squeezed into my daughter’s lifetime, it’s suddenly clear how I became the parent of an adult. I remember my daughter’s first day of kindergarten, her first day of Jr. High, and her first driver’s permit (there have been several). A few weeks ago I paid for her cap and gown, which should have at least clued me into the fact that I have a child who will soon be graduating from high school. But as all parents say – and I confirm it to be true – kids grow up so fast. Maybe the unsettling part for me as the parent is the question, “How did I grow up so fast?” Aging is the logical progression of living; if you continue to live, you will get older. Being old is something we know will happen to us, but always sometime in the future – never in the present.

During His life on earth, Jesus invited people to follow Him into a life full and real. If you call yourself a Christ follower, you’ve accepted this same invitation. Life with Jesus is good, it’s better, it’s real living, but it’s no cake walk. And Jesus never promised it would be. He actually talked quite a lot to His disciples about the suffering they would face. He prepared them – no surprises.

Many encouraging letters of the Bible were written by people who were in the midst of unhappy circumstances, but even after reading these letters a thousand times, difficult times always seem to take me by surprise. It’s usually the unpleasant kind of surprise; the kind that quickly reveals my selfish expectations. I know faith living will be a challenge, but do I have to struggle today? Do I have to face troubles in the present? I’d rather postpone it…for a future time. My Savior chose a cross over a crown and yet I seem to believe following His example should be easy and painless.

Whether you love Jesus or not, suffering is part of living in a broken world. Hurt and heartache are unavoidable. We will endure sickness and aging, change and loss, obstacles and conflict. Things will break and wear out, friendships will end, and daily nuisances and frustrations will continue to pester us. The secret is learning to be content – in the good and the bad. Our example of faithful endurance – even in our struggles – encourages others who love Jesus. Tough times strengthen our faith, making us more like Jesus, so that we’ll be ready to meet Him one day – the wonderful day we’re living for.

So take heart and be encouraged. You may have a ‘time for a new transmission’ day or a ‘the IRS made an error in your favor’ day, but either way, live it to the fullest. And keep looking ahead.

Interactions, showing love, and knowing Jesus fills needs

by 4 Comments

We moved around a bunch when I was a kid. One summer afternoon, days fresh into a recent move, Mom was busy scrubbing the baseboards of our new home. My sister – only 5 and rather shy – answered a knock at the door. A boy of about the same age stood on the porch, staring for a moment before asking a particularly ballsy question for a kid his size: “So you gonna come out and play or do I have to punch your lights out?”

He and my sister became instant friends.

Actually, no. My tiny, timid sister slammed the door in his face. And I, the loving big sister, quite overcome by the hilarity of the situation, cataloged every detail of the event so I could blog about it nearly 30 years later.

Why this neighbor kid offered those two choices as his first impression, I don’t know, but he was the baby brother of teenage boys and his method of introduction proved he had learned the skills necessary to survive his family dynamic. He could articulate his needs and he didn’t mess around. He wanted friendship and he was willing to fight for it.

I wonder if the everyday interactions we share with complete strangers would be simpler if everyone were more direct; if needs, expectations, and insecurities were verbalized right up front. Someone asks me to come out and play, I put them on the ‘possible future friends’ list. Someone threatens to punch my lights out, they get placed under the ‘people to avoid’ category.

My life and my interactions with people aren’t about me anymore. I’m a Christ follower. What I say and what I do are supposed to point people to Jesus. I extend patience because He is patience. I love because He is love. I don’t instinctively show these qualities on my own. Left on my own, I’m selfish, self-centered, and I mess everything up. I fall short in every possible way. I needed a Savior because I desperately needed saving from myself.

The truth is, everyone needs Jesus, whether they recognize it or not. The root of our insecurities and emotional needs stem back to our soul’s desperate need for a Savior. It’s a longing, really, and it’s difficult to verbalize. If I want to be the kind of Christ follower who points people directly to Jesus, I need to reflect an accurate picture of my loving Savior and His ability to fill any need. I can be direct without making threats.

And these are very good things. Because Jesus doesn’t belong on anyone’s ‘people to avoid’ list.